


The Freezer Case

by brokenemotions



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Hurt!John, M/M, Sad, Sherlock - Freeform, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 11:53:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2811080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenemotions/pseuds/brokenemotions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Mary dies giving birth, John moves back into 221B. Sherlock and his cases seem to be the only thing keeping him sane. A case that involves a chase, traps John and Sherlock in a cold freezer together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Freezer Case

"Since we’re about to die anyway, why?" John’s breathe flows past his lips, the freezing air making him tremble. His dark blue eyes look straight into his friends.   
Sherlock parts his lips and looks away from the stare. How could he finally say it? It’s something that John is never meant to know. Yet here they are, locked in a 5 below freezer, no one searching for them. Would they really make the night? Sherlock’s eyes skim his friend.   
John’s shivering out of control, first sign of mild hypothermia. His friend only wore two layers of clothing, of course the cold is effecting him much more. Sherlock shakes his head,

"John, get up and move. If you stay still your body temp will drop faster. You’re in mild hypo…you don’t want to go into sever-"

"Shut up, Sherlock," John interrupts, he hugs his body tight, glaring at the man sitting in front of him, "don’t change the subject. I’m a doctor, I know what’s happening to my body right now. Tell me. Why keep it a secret? After you jumped? You know damn well that I’d keep my mouth shut. So tell me already. Please. Why?"

Sherlock rubs his arms, looking at John’s shoes. There really is no harm in telling John now. At this rate…John won’t even make it til midnight. This doesn’t worry Sherlock too much…At least they’d die together.

"I um…" Sherlock feels himself start to shiver, "I wasn’t going to come back. That’s why. My plan was to stay there or die, either or. I didn’t want to worry you. If you knew, I know you’d come looking for me after awhile. I couldn’t have that happen," Sherlock looks into his friends eyes. Did John believe that? Why lie now? The smartest man in the world, afraid to admit his feelings. Coward.  
To Sherlock’s surprise John nodded his head. He took the lie and now fell silent. The hum of the freezer is the only thing that fills the quiet air as the two friends sit, shivering together. John finally gets up and starts to pace back and forth. Sherlock closes his eyes, relieved his friend hasn’t given up completely.

After about 30 minutes, John is sitting on the ground again, this time next to Sherlock. The man hugs his legs, shivering more uncontrollably. Sherlock turns to examine his friend, pale skin, blue lips, the cold is taking John fast. Sherlock gets up taking off his coat. He wraps it around John as tightly as he can and starts rubbing his arms. John shakes his head, his voice cracked when he speaks,

"N- no Sherlock," tries to push the coat off of himself, but he’s to weak to fight against his friend, his eyes cast toward the ground. "I thought…I thought I lost you…forever. I thought…" John starts to ramble. Sherlock shushes him and rubs faster. Moderate hypothermia. The detective takes out his cell phone his other hand still rubbing. Even though there is no service, he tries to call Lestrade anyway. Maybe something will go through, maybe, by some miracle Lestrade knows to look for them. Increasingly Sherlock gets more frantic. He realizes now, seeing John die before his eyes is something he refuses to see. The man rather die than see that happen. God, please let John make it out of this. I don’t particularly believe in a higher power but if you ARE real, please spare him. This would probably mark the first time Sherlock has ever prayed and maybe the last.  
John still rambles lightly to himself, but his shivering seems to calm down slightly. Sherlock takes John’s hands and blows into them. John watches his best friend try with all his might to keep the inevitable from happening.

"Stop…Sherlock…stop," John’s voice is weak.  
Sherlock shakes his head, his eyes misting over.

"No. No!" Sherlock looks up at his friend, John’s blue lips form into a smile. He reaches out and puts a cold, shivering hand on Sherlock’s face, which wasn’t any warmer.

"You have to take back your coat," John’s voice his weak, much like his body at this point. He slowly begins to take off the coat, "you’re the one who needs to survive this. Do you understand. You. Need. To. Survive. This." John holds the coat out to Sherlock. Sherlock stares, dumbly, it just now hits him: he put John in this situation. He killed them both and now he’s powerless to stop it.

"I saw…" Sherlock starts. John’s arm limps, dropping the coat. Sherlock shivers, taking the coat and throwing it back around his friend, his voice is warm and soft when he speaks, starting to rub John’s arms again, "I deduced it. That you were falling in love with me. Or rather…you WERE in love with me. I had to do something to save you and I had to do something to destroy Moriarty. While I planned this I told myself I couldn’t handle you asking me - showing me…your emotions. Which I knew you planned to do after Adler was out of the picture. I decided I was a coward. I couldn’t face it. So I…" Sherlock’s voice trails off. John is now staring, wide eyed at Sherlock.  
"I tricked you. I’d keep you out of it and disappear. You would move on once you accepted my death. Which you did. Overall the plan worked," Sherlock stops and notices John had formed a fist, which is now trembling. The anger could help control John’s temperature a little longer.   
"My brother came and said I was needed back in London. I debated on whether or not I was going to show my face to you. I knew if I did it wouldn’t matter. I’ve broken your trust, you would never show me your feelings again. So of course- I couldn’t stay away." Sherlock’s eyes look into John’s expecting anger, hatred, expecting a punch. Instead Sherlock sees tears, warm tears sliding down John’s cold cheeks. His eyes showed pain and hurt. Neither of them spoke another word.

 

The room fell silent. Sherlock wraps his arms around himself than sits back and watches John. Time passes and Sherlock isn’t able to stay silent anymore,

"Please…John…you have to understand, love is new to me…I didn’t want to reject your offer. I didn’t want us to - " Sherlock realizes he’s not making much sense, it didn’t look as if John was listening anyway. Unable to sit any longer, Sherlock gets up and starts to pace the floor slowly. Suddenly the detective starts to bang on the door. He screams, help, loudly over and over again. He doesn’t stop banging until he realizes his hands are completely numb. He holds them out in front of him to examine the damage. Shivering, pale, finger tips blue, bruised. The man breathes out as he balls his hands into a fist. How could he be so stupid to fall for such a trick?! His eyes look out the frozen window to see the dark abandoned store, not a soul coming to save them.  
Turning around Sherlock sees his coat on the floor along with John’s jumper and shirt. His friend is bare chested and now trying to take off his shoes but he’s stumbling and mumbling something under his breath. 

"JOHN ARE YOU INSANE! PUT YOUR CLOTHS BACK ON!!" Sherlock slides in front of John, pulling John’s hand away from his shoes. Sherlock dresses John quickly than wraps his arms around the man as tightly as he can, rubbing his shoulders fast. "Oh, christ…christ…please, John, please stay with me, don’t you dare die, someone is coming to get us out of here, you hear me??" Sherlock’s voice is frantic and very fast paced, John’s going through paradoxical undressing, it’s only a matter of time now.   
"Keep your clothes on. I know you feel overheated at the moment but believe me when I tell you, you are not."   
John rests his head on Sherlock’s shoulder.

"I - I love- Sherlock…Holmes -ou " John closes his eyes. Sherlock pulls away to lift John’s face.

"Please, John…please…"Sherlock takes John’s hands and blows into them over and over. When John doesn’t move Sherlock takes his friend’s face and kisses the mans lips, roughly.   
But still no movement from John. Warm tears stream down Sherlock’s impossibly cold cheeks, he shuts his eyes tight slowly moving his lips away from John’s.

There’s a pause in the scene, like time has stopped.  
Sherlock can tell John is still breathing, but just barely, his body is about to shut down. John’s heart seems to be hanging on for dear life. Sherlock kisses John’s hands over and over again. They seem so cold, so lifeless, so stiff. At this point the tears just continue to stream down Sherlock’s cheeks.   
John moves slightly, his eyes open a bit, watching Sherlock kiss him over and over again. The man’s lips move, wanting to say something to Sherlock, but nothing seems to come out. Sherlock stands fast, which makes him stumble to the door. His forehead presses on it as he calls for help, less loud this time, his energy is fading.

John Watson isn’t supposed to die like this, not like this. And it’s all his fault. Sherlock hits the door one last time than turns to see that John is trying to huddle himself up against the shelf, trying to hide. The man gulps down the pain in his chest.   
His best friend in that moment looked like a corpse moving ever so slightly. A sight that Sherlock Holmes wish he’d never seen. He has seen so many deaths, so much blood and gore. This…was by far the worst scene he has ever witnessed.

Sherlock stumbles back over to John, takes the cold man in his arms and hugs him, whispering in John’s ear.

"I love you, John Hamish Watson. I love you. Please, just hang on for me a little longer. We’ll get out of here and we can live the life you wanted to live before I jumped. I’ll g-give you happiness. D-don’t- don’t leave me al-alone. Don’t go…please…J- …John," Sherlock kisses John’s cheek.  
In that very moment the door flies open and a bright light fills the dark freezer. There are muffled voices, Sherlock can’t seem to make out who they belong too. The detective closes his eyes and hugs his lover tighter. In a raspy, low, whisper, Sherlock says,

"They’re here…John…you’re safe, now."

*

Lestrade walks into the hospital room were Sherlock Holmes lay, weeks after the freezer case. The inspector takes a seat next to the bed.

"How are you feeling?" Lestrade asks in a sympathetic voice.

"Depends…are you here to tell me John Watson is dead?" Sherlock’s voice is a whisper. Lestrade opens his mouth than looks down.  
Sherlock closes his eyes tight, whimpering louder than he had intended. He brings his hand up to his mouth to stop the second whimper but it escapes through his fingers and echos off the walls.

"I’m sorry, Sherlock."

While Sherlock breaks down, a man stands outside his room. A smile forms on his face as the sobs make their way past the door. The mystery man chuckles, puts his hands in his pockets and walks off whistling to himself.

-End

**Author's Note:**

> Is John really dead???? *smirks*


End file.
